Tension
by The Qilin
Summary: PWP. Oneshot. Yullen. "At this very instant, Kanda is kissing Allen and bruising their lips, and Allen is grinding against him between their ruined clothes, and they were in Kanda's bedroom."


___DGray-man belongs to Katsura Hoshino and I'm only borrowing ideas from her._

_Characters: Kanda/Allen_  
_Warnings: Side of violence, fellatio, fondling, fingering, 69 position  
_

* * *

**Tension**

Everyone has secret relationships. Exorcists? Even more so. The do's and don'ts of their Order were many, but with Komui pushing for more leniency, he overlooks many things. So as long as you weren't sleeping with his baby sister, or raping, or disappearing like a certain General, he doesn't care what you do to be happy and satisfied.

People made bets on whom was with whom, in corridors, in bedrooms, the bathrooms, the trainings rooms…everywhere. Yes, sex happens but no one ever says the word in case any nose Central people overheart. The highest bet is on Allen and Lenalee (Allen, what the gentleman. He could charm anyone, right?). Surely Komui can make an exception for him. They were quite compatible, fought well together, got along well.

So how close were they in being right?

Not even close.

They were all wrong.

_Extremely_ wrong.

Because at this very instant, Kanda is kissing Allen and bruising their lips, and Allen is grinding against him between their ruined clothes, and they were in Kanda's bedroom.

**_-|||:|||-_**

Maybe it's not right to say people who guess were completely wrong. To make a point, fucking someone and loving someone are two different things. You can fuck and not love, love and not fuck, and love and fuck. Or love fucking if you wish. Allen does not love Kanda. He loves Akuma and humans, but he doesn't want to fuck either. Kanda fucks for fuck's sake. Exorcists aren't choosy people.

They'd half torn their clothing; Allen's pants are shredded and Kanda's shirt has lost a sleeve. The former is bleeding but still smug, and the latter is biting his neck and scrabbling at tearing those pants off. They do not say please, thank you, or ask anything. In fact, there's only insults, more insults, and sounds of what people "lovemaking" even if there is no love.

Right now Kanda is swearing at Allen in every language he knows, and Allen does the same. In maybe ten minutes they are both finally unclothed, sweaty, and, eager for more than crushing lips and bruising skin.

It's obviously not their first time. No, the way that Kanda is going for Allen's neck while Allen's pulling his hair is proof they've done this before, over and over.

More like a matter of who wins or doesn't. Some days they don't care.

"Bakanda. You want me to die of suffocation?" Kanda has decided he wants to push his hand over the other's mouth, and Allen is forcing him to move. He does like being half-choked.

"You can die later. I don't fuck dead bodies."

"_Really_."

"Yes, really." Kanda sets his teeth against a nibble, snapping.

Allen shoves him away. "Quit it!" Exasperation in his voice. "Just how long are you going to keep biting me. Do I taste like soba?"

"Shut up, moyashi."

"Fringe-haired idiot—"

"—white-haired bastard—"

"You—mmph." He bites his own lip when the other tugs on something that has needed to be touched for some time now. There tends to be nothing gradual for Kanda. He likes instant. He likes things to be fast and over. But Allen feels cheated if he does that. So he forcefully shoves again and sends them rolling over each other on the ground until he has Kanda against the wall. His fingers easily clamp down on Kanda's erection, squeezing just a little too hard.

"The fuc—"

"No." A simple, single letter word. "You're not fucking me tonight."

"Like hell if I want you fucking me either." Kanda kicks and narrowly misses Allen's knees.

Unperturbed, he continues, biting down on Kanda's shoulder and licking up the taste of blood. No matter what kind of human you are, your blood tastes the same underneath any skin. "We are going to come, with my fingers up your ass and my mouth around you. And with you doing the same to me." Because this is so much more fun than getting slammed into until the point of soreness. "Or you don't think you can take four fingers?"

Kanda growls something inarticulate and pushes Allen down even as he turns himself. "Fuck you."

"And you too."

"Che." He slicks his hands in oil, tosses the tiny bottle at Allen, and easily takes most of Allen's erection in his mouth. Allen falters only just slightly before he matches Kanda's pace, wasting no time in getting busy with his hands. Hips buckle and writhe, with the sounds of sucking and breathing loud in the room.

Allen scrapes his teeth and considers biting down to pay back for what Kanda's done, but that's just cruel. Not to mention Kanda has sharp nails, nails that were rolling his balls and curling inside his rear passage. It almost tickles and he turns his need for sound into humming.

Two, three fingers. In and out. Twisting. Jabbing. The little jerks and hitching of breaths tell him he's found the right place. Kanda finally finds his and Allen sighs and pushes back against those fingers.

He could actually touch himself in this way, progressively alternating between slow and fast, fanning his desire until he finally releases forcefully over his hands. But having another's hand, another mouth on him makes it more interesting. Goading, edging, taunting—it was all part of this.

It doesn't make him esteem Kanda as a person any more than it endears Allen to Kanda. It's more satisfying to know he gets to see his face when he's in ecstasy instead of angry eyes and snarl.

A particularly forceful shove makes Allen hiss and clamp down. Judge from the strain of muscles at his end, Kanda's close as well. He adds a fourth finger and prods harder, desperately. Except Kanda knows him well enough to remember how to take him apart with the right application of his tongue against the tip, a certain twist of his middle finger, and a stroke between his testicles that has him reaching culmination then and there. He moans and spasms, quivering in Kanda's warm hands and mouth, and only a few seconds later the recognizable taste of Kanda is on his tongue and muscles push around his own fingers in release.

Allen swallows and smears at his face. "off," he mumbles, elbowing. "You're heavy."

"And you always come too much." Impolitely, the other Exorcist spits and give him a smirk. "I won."

"Only because I was being nice."

"Shut up." Kanda sits up, combing his hair with his fingers. "So was I."

"I couldn't tell."

"You weren't _supposed_ to."

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Che." Kanda stands with a sway of hips and cascading hair. "I sucked you off and you know I hate sucking. We're done."

Allen stands as well, stretching his arms over his head. "Next time, I'll make you say thank you."

"In your dreams, Beansprout."

"_Allen._"

"Whatever."

Gratification always has a price. Theirs is this.

They aren't friends.

But neither are they enemies.

Who says co-dependency needs to be a nice relationship? Certainly not Allen, and certainly not Kanda.


End file.
